


Heart

by servantofclio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8328439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servantofclio/pseuds/servantofclio
Summary: “Then what?” Shianni asks. “I just, I never thought to see you with a shem.”





	

“‘Scinda,” Shianni says, “I know you’re both Wardens, but that doesn’t mean…”

She trails off, her brow furrowed with worry. Kascinda Tabris knows that face well. “It’s not about that,” she replies.

The two of them loiter in a corner of Denerim’s market. Around them, the walls are scorched, some broken, but somehow the market stalls are back up already, awnings defiantly bright, and people are hawking their wares: dwarf-made weapons, wood and stone for building, baskets of chicks, bread, onions, turnips, fruit. The color and smell of the market is back, in spite of the dark stains on the cobblestones, and no one pays any mind to two elf women out of the way, even if one of them is Fereldan’s new hero.

“Then what?” Shianni asks. “I just, I never thought to see you with a shem.”

Across the market, Alistair is buying cheese and bread and a jug of cream. Kascinda watches him talking to the seller, bent a little to fit under the green and white awning. The vendor’s a young human with brown curls, who looks up at him with a lips-parted, eager expression that Kascinda’s seen before. Alistair hardly seems to notice. He laughs at something she says, flashing a winning smile, but he’s hitched his pack over his shoulder and shifts his weight awkwardly. On the battlefield, he might be a rock, but off, he never seems to know what to do with his feet and elbows. Kascinda feels a smile tugging at her own mouth.

“He’s not just a shem,” she says. “Or at least, he’s not like other shemlen.”

Shianni sighs. “You’re besotted.”

“Just talk to him,” Kascinda says. “You’ll see.”

Alistair finally turns from the market stall. His eyes search through the crowd for them, and when his gaze lights on Kascinda, he brightens, his smile wide and dazzling, and he cut through the bustle of the market with long strides.

“It would mean a lot to me,” Kascinda adds, smiling back at him. Just a little quirk of her lips; she learned long ago to hide most of her feelings from her face.

Alistair reads the small change in expression anyway, and beams back at her, eyes locked on her as if no one else matters. He nearly trips over a stout older woman with a large basket, in fact, and then has to stop and stutter an apology when the lady nearly drops her basket. Kascinda bites her lips to keep from laughing.

“Oh,” Shianni says, as Alistair glances guiltily around and resumes his course toward them. “I think I see.”


End file.
